


An Uninvited Guest

by Lady_Saddlebred



Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me [48]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Saddlebred/pseuds/Lady_Saddlebred
Summary: a little PWP in honor of the patron saint of Ireland
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/99608
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23
Collections: Master Apprentice Archive





	An Uninvited Guest

Title: An Uninvited Guest

Author: Lady_Saddlebred (cdelapin@yahoo.com)

Archive: Yes, please

Category: Q/O, Alternate Reality

Rating: PG

Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me in School (archived)

DISCLAIMER: George Lucas owned everything, until he sold it to Disney. We own nothing, just playing in his playground.

Special thanks always to Katbear, Merry Amelie and Helen, mes betas par excellence! Any mistakes are mine.

Summary: a little PWP in honor of the patron saint of Ireland

Previous fics in series: all on AO3 website:  
Early Admission  
Lessons They Never Taught Me in School  
Lessons That Were Never on the Syllabus  
That Which Does Not Go to School  
Rainy Day Recess  
Of Popcorn and Pine Trees  
Fit to Print  
Daffodils  
Spring Cotillion  
Is That a Lightsaber I See Before Me?  
A Pen for Your Thoughts  
When I Was Your Age  
Partners  
Mum’s the Word  
Best Laid Plans  
An Apple for Teacher  
What’s for Supper?  
Pacifier  
Snow Angels  
One Man’s Junk  
May I Have This Dance?  
Four Green Fields  
Too Darned Hot  
Pomp and Circumstances  
Summertime Blues  
Blow the Man Down  
Post-Graduate Studies  
Crossing the Pond  
Moving On  
Picnic in the Park  
Family Matters  
Meeting of the Moms  
Ebony and Ivories  
A Less Than Perfect Storm  
Chicken Soup  
Measuring Up  
The Drinking Game  
Rainy Day Recess Revisited  
Step It Out  
Souls Mirrored  
The Pizza Fairy  
Trick or Treat  
Moonlight  
May the Fourth Be With You  
Nollaig Shona Duit  
Heart Healthy

~*~*~*~

It had been an entertaining evening of drinks and Irish fare at a local pub, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. Ben and Quinn had worn their O’Donovan fishermen’s sweaters over green shirts and sang along with a trio of would-be musicians, whose enthusiasm almost made up for a lack of any real talent. Since the holiday fell on a school night, they’d not stayed late. Quinn had an early lab on Wednesdays and Ben had a full day of team meetings with First Call. 

"I'm gonna check the front door," Ben said, as they entered from the garage. "UPS was supposed to be delivering a package today."

Quinn nodded. "I'll feed Bernini and be up in a few minutes." The big golden retriever whined in happy anticipation as they headed to the kitchen.

“What the- hey, look *out*!”

Quinn whirled around at Ben’s shouted warning, then jerked back as something literally flew past his chin. Bernini barked in alarm and bounded toward the foyer, ready to defend his masters.

Ben was standing wide-eyed at the open front door, his expression one of shock and dismay. “*Shit*! It was on the doorknocker!” 

Quinn took a deep breath and spoke calmly. “All right, take it easy. What was it, a wren? It looked fairly small, what I saw of it.”

Ben nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was there. I just opened the door, and-”

“No worries,” Quinn soothed. “These things happen sometimes. We just need to find it before it hurts itself. Believe me, it’s more scared of you than you are of it.” At least it wasn’t a snake this time… he added to himself, with an inner smile. 

Ben glanced nervously up at the stairs. “I sure hope it doesn’t go up there. We’d never find it.”

“Let’s do this methodically, shall we?” Quinn suggested, as he dragged the still-agitated Bernini into the rear garden with a bowl of dog chow. “Close all the doors upstairs, so it’s only got the stairwell and the hallway. I’ll do the same down here. Don’t make any sudden moves and startle it further; it might try to go through one of the windows and break its neck.”

Still visibly shaken, Ben obediently moved to the stairs. Small wonder, Quinn thought, as he shut the door to the study, then the one between the kitchen and the dining room. The poor lad wasn’t as accustomed to flora and fauna catastrophes as a certain biology professor. 

Now to find the poor wee beastie and get it safely outside again before it damaged itself. There was a time when, had such a thing happened on St. Stephen’s Day back home, the poor thing might have been in real danger. Thankfully, the ages-old children’s tradition of Lá an Dreoilín (hunting the wren and begging pennies for its funeral) had given way to a popular excuse for grown men to dress up and parade through the streets carrying holly poles and collecting for charity. Maybe he’d take Ben back to Ballymena one year for Christmas and they could join the December 26th festivities.

As he checked the lower level, his thoughts drifted back to another St. Patrick’s Day several years earlier. He and Adele had gone out for drinks and dinner, as much to celebrate the closing on the brownstone as the Irish national holiday. Somewhere between the green beer and the corned beef, he’d decided to christen his new quarters. Adele had laughingly declined his invitation to join him, citing the far-from-complete remodeling. She’d wait for a proper invitation once everything was done. 

He’d been making a late-night snack when he thought he saw something move near the back door. When he looked again, all seemed normal, and he chided himself for imagining he had a wee ghostie in residence. He’d almost dozed off over a glass of Jameson’s in the living room when a soft rustling sound from the entryway caught his attention. 

It was a huge black snake, long and lean and lovely. Under Quinn’s fascinated gaze, it gracefully undulated its way from the foyer into the living room, seemingly unconcerned by its host only a few feet away. Then it stopped and appeared to just *look* at him for a long moment, forked tongue darting in and out as it calmly took his measure. Quinn remained quite still, curious to see what it might do next. Despite having grown up in legendarily snake-free Northern Ireland (thanks be to St. Patrick), he was well-versed in the various species and knew this one to be of a non-poisonous variety, commonly dubbed the ‘Farmer’s Friend’ because it kept mice and other pests under control. 

But biologist or not, Quinn wasn’t anxious to share his new home with a reptilian roommate. His quirky Irish sense of humor wondered whether any ‘grandfathering’ language in the closing documents might apply to this admittedly rather spectacular squatter. In all fairness, the fellow might have been living in the walls or the fireplace of the vacant building for years, before the remodeling had disturbed his peaceful existence. Which one of them was the real interloper?

Leaning down, he reached for a bucket left by the workmen earlier that day. Carefully laying it on its side on the stone hearth, he slowly stood up, eyes never leaving those of the serpent. It appeared almost hypnotized by his movements, watching carefully but making no attempt to evade him. He then eased around behind the snake, leaving the bucket on the floor. It didn’t occur to him until he was out of reach that he probably should have grabbed one of the fireplace tools. Oh, well… 

He cautiously approached, grateful he hadn’t yet removed his shoes and socks, in case his unexpected guest decided to take a sample. The snake seemed to weigh its options and then nonchalantly moved in the general direction of the bucket, as if already resigned to its fate. It really was beautiful in the light of the table lamp, the sheen of its skin showing rippling gradients of purple, blue, dark green and black. Too bad he didn’t have a camera… 

As soon as the snake’s head was inside the bucket, Quinn stepped forward and tossed it inside, then slapped the magazine he’d been reading over the top. It thrashed around, clearly unhappy with its rude eviction, and an odor remarkably like that of a skunk suddenly filled the air. Quinn hurried outside, heaving the bucket onto the stone wall that formed the rear boundary of the property and tipping it over. The snake fell to the ground below and speedily vacated the premises, no doubt calling down reptilian curses in multiple dialects on its landlord’s head.

Quinn leaned against the big maple tree and wiped his brow. His legs were wobbly, his hands were shaking, but he was pleased he’d managed to rid his new house of the pest without harming it. Under other conditions, he might have considered retaining it for his classes, but Jesus, Mary and Joseph, who knew snakes could smell like *skunk*? At a minimum, the Board would have docked his salary to pay for a professional cleansing of the entire science building. And God help him if it had gotten loose…

Quinn chuckled to himself as he continued to search for their winged trespasser. He hadn’t thought of that snake in years. Must be something about March 17th that brought out all the pookas and wee beasties, even if they weren’t Irish by birth. 

Just then, Ben called from upstairs that he had trapped it in the master suite. He barricaded the bird in the walk-in shower while Quinn removed the screen and opened the bathroom window. Then together they shoo’ed the frantic but unharmed wren to freedom. 

“Wow,” Ben said, with a huge sigh of relief. “Sure wouldn’t have wanted to wake up with that thing in bed with us.”

Quinn grinned. “Oh, I’ve had worse. Did I ever tell you about the time…”

~end~


End file.
